


Cleaning Out My Closet

by midnightcas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Derek Has Feelings, Derek Helps Stiles, Derek Uses His Words, Derek is a Good Boyfriend, Derek is a Softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Angst, Fluff without Plot, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Insecurity, Love Confessions, M/M, Moving Out, No Plot/Plotless, Not Affiliated With Eminem, Sappy, Short & Sweet, Stiles Feels, Teasing, past emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11117436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightcas/pseuds/midnightcas
Summary: Stiles didn't plan on falling in love with Derek Hale. It had just...kind of happened. He didn't really expect to find what he did in Derek's closet either, but that happened to.AKA this summary doesn't summarize a thing, but if you want a little bit of Stiles questioning his self worth and Derek refusing to let him go down that path of uncertainty...then, welcome.





	Cleaning Out My Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Friends.
> 
> I don't remember when this idea popped into my head or where I first got the inspiration from. But I found it buried in my notes on my phone and decided it would be a quick write. So, here it is.
> 
> I really hope you guys like it! I thought it was kind of...cute? I don't know.
> 
> Enjoy some sap <3
> 
> ~midnight x

“So,” Stiles grinned, “what’s the plan?”

Derek pursed his lips, “We’re doing my room today.”  
  
The man rolled his eyes at the excitement that crossed the boy’s face. He had expected the reaction, but it was still...unnerving.

Derek was finally moving into a furnished apartment and therefore, moving everything out of the loft. They had already boxed the kitchen, bathroom and living room. The only thing left was his bedroom, where, admittedly, most of his stuff was. He didn’t have a lot. Most of it was back in New York. And it was safe to assume the city had disposed of it by now. It had been a few years.

Stiles raced up the stairs, flinging himself this way and that, trying to get and keep his footing. Derek followed slowly behind him, hands in pockets.

It wasn’t as if Stiles had never been in his room before. Because he had... _plenty_ of times. But crashing on the bed was a bit different than picking through and sorting out each of Derek’s possessions. Not like he minded. Because, regardless of how private Derek typically was, he didn’t mind when it was Stiles that was more or less invading that privacy. Maybe it was because he was always so careful with Derek. Always asking before taking his usual root that was digging for information in every corner of the earth until he found it, no stone unturned. He never pushed when Derek showed his discomfort, never asked for unnecessary information about his family, Paige, his past, etc. He always would pull back when he breached a sensitive issue, apologize with a sweet kiss to the side of his mouth and let him know that if he ever wanted to talk about it, he would be there. He never _demanded_ information. Not like Kate had. Or Jennifer. Stiles was smart, maybe he made that connection. But maybe not. Either way, Stiles was always so genuine and gentle in his dealings with Derek that he...Derek never felt that he _owed_ Stiles anything. He never felt like their relationship was a quid pro quo or a bargain or trade. He had never _had_ a relationship like that. Even if it was just sex, there was always a trade off. Always something in exchange for something else. But with Stiles...with Stiles he _wanted_ to give. But he never felt obligated.

And maybe that was why he was so deep in. Why he trusted him with with everything he had. Why he...why he _loved_ him. Maybe that was why he didn’t mind that Stiles was about to sort through each and every one of his belonging with such scrutiny it would make him squirm in his seat. Because _damn_ the kid was nosey. But...Derek kind of loved that about him, too.

By the time he made it upstairs Stiles was neatly sitting on the bed, hands in his lap and an impatient look on his face. Derek studied him for a moment.

They had only been dating for about three months. Which, in the grand scheme of things, was hardly any time at all. So, more or less, they were still feeling each other out. Finding what works for them and what doesn’t relationship wise. They’d known each other for much much longer, so it was a little bit easier than if they had been just starting from scratch. Either way, Derek was completely enamored. The man sighed.  
  
“Go ahead.”

Stiles shot straight to his feet. He clasped Derek on the shoulder with a grin.

“Thanks, man. Let’s do the dresser first.”

They spent most of the time in silence, a few questions about where to place things or whether he wanted to keep certain things or not were thrown around the room that was otherwise filled with the The Black Keys CD Stiles had found in the back of a box sometime yesterday. An hour later Stiles moved to the closet.

He ripped open the door and went slack faced in disbelief. He hardly held in a snort.

“What?” Derek asked defensively.

Stiles’ eyes bounced from his boyfriend to the closet, “Dude,” he said disapprovingly.

He turned back to slide the hangers around. Because what he was staring at? Hilarious. The old him would have probably snapped a picture and sent it to Scott and Erica with a string of crying-laughing emojis while howling with laughter. After the nogitsune however...he had learned of privacy. And he had a feeling that Derek wouldn’t want word getting out to the pack that he was hiding _this_ glorious feat in his closet. Because Stiles was starting at _seven_...no, eight. Eight different leather jackets.

Derek peaked around his shoulder, “For different occasions.”

At that Stiles did laugh.

“I mean,” he gasped, “express yourself however you want. I just...I mean most people do it through art or like...bad music or something. I figured painting was more your style...or like working out. I didn’t think you’d chose the root of stuffing your closet full of leather.”

“That’s not the only thing I use leather for.”

Stiles felt his entire body go cold and his face turn red. His eyes widened at the comment before he caught Derek’s smirk. The asshole.

He shook his head, still shaking off the shock and embarrassment. Because sometimes he forgot that Derek was funny. Witty and sarcastic, of course, but humorously hilarious in all the ways that Stiles loved? Yeah, sometimes that discovery got lost between running from kanima and oni and hunters, etc. But if he was joking, then the least Stiles could do was joke back.

He pulled one out, “What’s this one for? Rescuing?” Derek snorted. “What about this one? Intimidation? Threatening? Which one is for extra sexy alluring? Oh, this one. It’s this one, isn’t it? You were wearing it the night we broke into my Dad’s office!”

Derek grumbled as he reached over to grab it from his hands and toss it on the bed out of his reach. He pulled Stiles into his chest, his hands holding his upper arms, putting enough distance between them so they could see each other’s faces, but not much else.

“How do you even remember that?”

Golden eyes flickered down, “...there’s a lot of things about that night that I remember.”

Derek swallowed his comment and frowned. His now sad eyes searched Stiles’ face before the kid pulled out of his grasp and reached back inside the closet, shaking the affirmation off like it never happened.

“Okay,” he mused, still weeding through the jackets, “What’s your best ‘meet the parents’ jacket?”

He internally winced, _smooth Stilinski,_ he berated himself, turning to Derek with a twisted, awkward smile. The wolf furrowed his brows.

“But your Dad already knows me.”

And, ah, yes. Just another reason he kind of loved Derek. Like a lot. Not only could he keep up with his dry humor and sarcasm, but his nonsensical thought process as well. He shrugged a shoulder and turned back to the closet.

“Yeah, but he’ll want to do the official dinner/intimidation thing. Just...play along, please?”

“Stiles,” he huffed, digging through his top drawer, his knew he had tape in there somewhere, “we’ve been dating for three months. Why--?”

“I may have waited to tell my Dad. Until recently?”

At that, Derek spun around. It was kind of...a shock. Because he was under the impression that the Sheriff knew. That _everyone_ knew.

“Why?” And oh, that came out a bit harsher than Derek had intended. Stiles seemed unphased at his tone, however, so he continued, “What do you mean?”

“I uh,” he turned to face Derek, rubbing the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous. He wanted to hold the boy’s hand and tell him he didn’t have anything to worry about and wrap him a few dozen blankets and make it so he was never nervous again. Especially not with anything that involved Derek. But he restrained himself. Lydia had warned him about coddling. And this..this looked like it was supposed to be an adult conversation. So...”I wasn’t sure.”

“Wasn’t sure?”  
  
“About how...serious. You were about me.”

“How serious about you I am,” he repeated, voice flat.

Stiles flinched, “I wasn’t sure how serious you were about me and I didn’t want to create any false anxiety about his only son being sexually active,” his gaze dropped to Derek’s chest, blatantly checking him out, “ _Very_ sexually active.”

“Stiles,” he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. And Stiles _knew_ that sigh, “Come here.”

He set down the jacket he had been clutching in his hands and made his way over. Derek look his hands in his big, warm, rough ones and peered up at him.

“Why didn’t you think I was serious?”

He shrugged, eyes avoiding eyes.

“Stiles,” he coaxed.

He finally met his eyes, “It’s just...you’re you and I’m...I’m me.”

“I’m me and you’re you,” Derek raised an unimpressed brow.

“E-exactly.”

Derek shook his head, eyebrows drawn, “I don’t...” and Stiles could see the exact moment that he _did_ understand.

His eyes flashed a brilliant blue and his hands gripped Stiles’ a bit harder than necessary, as if he was about to run away and that was the only thing keeping him there.

“Are you trying to say that _you’re_ not good enough?”  
  
And...leave it to Derek. To see through all his bullshit and masks and deception.

“I mean...I didn’t know if this was just temporary or if you’d find someone more...in your league and like, procreate and make your own superior race or something.”

Derek wasn’t amused. He pulled Stiles so that he was sitting beside him on the bed, body angled towards himself.

“Have I...did I make you--um...,” and of course. Of course the martyr would turn this on himself, make it his fault, Have I ever done anything to make you feel like this was temporary? That you weren’t worth it?”  
  
“No!” He shouted before fixing himself. He repeated it gently, “No, Derek. I just...no. You’re...you’re perfect. You make me happier than I’ve ever been. That I ever thought possible. You make...you make me _feel_ like I’m worth something.”  
  
Derek’s hard gaze melted a bit to reveal his soft concern and sudden alarm. He brought one of Stiles’ hands to his face and kissed his palm, “Then why?”

“I don’t,” his gaze dropped again, “I don’t know. I...I like you Derek. Like really _really_ like you. I don’t want you to leave me. I’m...I get scared sometimes.”

The man twisted his mouth in thought before grabbing Stiles’ chin, forcing him to look into his eyes, “Hey. Listen to me. I would never leave you. Okay? I don’t think I could. You’re special. You...you make me laugh, Stiles. Even after...well, everything. You’re smart. Too smart. And strong. And, Stiles,” the tone of voice caught Stiles’ attention, “I trust you.”

Stiles’ breath hitched. Derek watched him closely, watching the admission slowly sank it. A series of emotion flitted over his face. Derek never got the chance to see the one he landed on because soon he was being taken in a fierce, sweet kiss. He grabbed on to both sides of Stiles’ face to deepen it. He tried to pour all of his thoughts, his feelings, his love for this man into it. It was a wordless declaration that Stiles, the spazzy high school kid that used to sport a buzzcut and too much plaid and listen to the police scanner and shoved fistfuls of curly fries into his mouth at a time, had Derek. Forever. Derek belonged to _him_. He wasn’t going anywhere.

He never would. Never could. Never wanted to.  
  
“Derek,” he whispered, voice high and raw, “I know...I know it’s early but...”  
  
He couldn’t help the smile, “I know.”  
  
“No but...”  
  
“Stiles,” he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his mouth, “I love you, too.”

The boy sniffled, unshed tears glazing his eyes, “I don’t...I _know_ it’s early. But I’ve loved you. For a long time, Derek. Maybe in a different way, but I always have. And I think,” he swallowed, tightening his grip on the front of Derek’s cotton shirt, “I think I always will.”

This time it was Derek who stole the kiss, cradling Stiles’ head, as if it were a precious jewel. And to Derek, it was. This beautiful mind, this beautiful boy. It had taken a world of pain and suffering and loss to get here. He never thought that this feeling, the ones explained in books and movies, he never thought it was real. Just another work of fiction. Another made up heaven that he’d never get to. But Stiles...Stiles was all of that.

He told him as much as he kissed under his jaw and down his neck. Normally, they would nix the sweet talk. The sappy love boat shit that was more Scott and Allison’s style. But once in awhile, like now, it was needed. A reminder that they were everything to each other. That they were at each other’s mercy. That they were it. He took Stiles apart, slowly and carefully. Trying to tell him, wordlessly, everything else he couldn’t quite put into words yet. With every stroke, every kiss, every murmur, every gasp.

“I love you,” he whispered into Stiles’ mouth, “I love you. I love you.”

 

 

Later that night they were to meet the pack for dinner at Ruby’s. It was the run of the mill, biweekly pack get together and Derek couldn’t be happier to be surrounded by his makeshift family. For all their disparities and dissonance and complicated nature, they were oddly comfortable to be around. All of them. From Jackson to Liam to Scott to Isaac. It wasn’t exactly how Derek imagined a _pack_ would be. But they never really were orthodox in their practice, either. They slid into the long booth, everyone spread out and chattering. Derek slid in next to Stiles, large hand immediately settling on the boy’s knee. Stiles smiled up at him and brushed his long fingers through dark hair.

“So,” Lydia asked, setting down her diet coke, “Who said it first?”

Jackson cocked and eyebrow while Derek and Stiles exchanged looked.

“Who said what first?”

She rolled her eyes, “I love you,” she scoffed, like they were supposed to _know_.

Which, Stiles kind of did. But there was just something so human about saying ambiguous and playing along.

“Um,” he stuttered.

Regardless, he was kind of shocked that she even knew. Because he hadn’t told her. He hadn’t really told anyone yet. For the past two hours he was laid out underneath Derek, positively naked and very very well tended to.

“You’re positively glowing,” she said, sarcasm heavy, giving way to her evidence.

“Oh,” Stiles perked up, grinning like a minx, “No, we just had sex.”  
  
At her stunned expression, he reached across the table to seize a fry, swiping through her ketchup and popping it in his mouth.

“Oh, gross,” Liam cried.  
  
“Come on guys,” Scott wined.

“Ew.”

“Get a room.”  
  
“You guys are disgusting.”

Stiles turned his smile to Derek who was pink in the face. Stiles laughed joyously and kissed his cheek, taking his hand in his under the table. Because, sure. Derek was _Derek_ and Stiles was very very _Stiles_. But he thought that maybe...maybe that was why they worked so well together after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had to throw some humor in there. There's really no plot so, like...I don't know. It seemed like a good avenue. I just followed the notes past me left in the document, so blame me (but not me). Sounds like another fic. Looks like I'll be writing again soon. 
> 
> Well, warmest hugs and best wishes. Thanks so much for reading. 
> 
> Leave a comment save a life. But really, I would love to know what you guys thought of it.
> 
> Thanks again!!


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